


Pause/Play

by chipchop



Category: The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger
Genre: Bisexuality, Holden is a good father, Holden is doing well, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Puppy Crushes, Sexual Content, Single Parent Holden, Smut in chapter 4, i swear i can hear Salinger rolling around in his grave and im so sorry, intimacy issues, just overgrown boys being boys, these tags make it sound dark but i swear its not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chipchop/pseuds/chipchop
Summary: Holden runs into a familiar face. Everything ensures.
Relationships: Holden Caulfield/Stradlater
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

Holden was slightly thankful that he never left New York in the end. After all, he knew he was going to miss those ducks, the sheer novelty of having a lake just a short walk away, filled to the brim with those gorgeous ducks, geese and swans, he certainly was glad his daughter got to experience it all.   
Sure, she was afraid of them at first, but after a solid year of teaching her, those ducks ate the oats right out of her hand! It really was quite the sight, seeing a two year old having two ducks daintily picking oats of all things off her tiny hands. It killed him, really.   
Autumn always had chilly mornings, but those ducks were still out, and Holden made sure that Allison got one of the first feeds in on Saturdays. Crouching on the ground with her, keeping her steady, she had her arm out for a mother duck and her ducklings, who of course were scared at first, but now they all seemed quite content picking the oats out of her hand. 

“Whatdoya think of her, Allison? She a good mama duck?” Holden mused to the girl in a gentle voice. Hearing the soft little quacks of those birds with the little peeps of their babies never failed to make him smile.

“Yes, she is!” Allison answered, in that sweet way all lil kids did. 

It killed him, honestly.

Allison was such a sweet little girl, all he could ever ask for in a daughter. How unconditionally kind she was, how her wits were already starting to shine through. She could be a handful at times being stubborn and loud, but who’s to say that he wasn't at that age too? Her copper locks had now grown to her chin, her big blue eyes gone slightly lighter as she got bigger, and she was definitely growing up too fast. As soon as he first put little white baby booties on her, he was taking them off for the last time to replace them with rubber soled shoes that she wore out way too quickly.   
Hell, he thought he must’ve thrown it out, but it was just by sheer coincidence he found that ol’ red hunting hat of his tucked away in a dusty box, and needless to say he was glad that hat got a second life with her, for it was a decent hat. He himself couldn't wear it any more, too many memories attached to it and a lot of them were sore, even though he was only wearing it for a year as a hormonal and severely ill teenager. But on her? It looked cute, just a bit too big for her to the point where it was a little lopsided, but she loved that hat anyway. It killed him.   
It went unsaid within his family that she was so much like their late little Allie. 

As that mother duck waddled away with her children, Allison dusted her hands off on her jumper, replacing her brown knitted mittens afterwards. 

“Allgoods?” Holden assured, and at her eager nod, he took her hand.

Only, he flinched like a rabbit to a gunshot at feeling a hand on his shoulder, and he whirled around at whoever did so, only to find himself staring up at a face he hadn't seen in what must've been eight or so years.   
From where he was crouched on the grass, the familiar figure took a step back with his hands up, just as shocked as Holden was.

“Sonovabitch, it really is you,” The figure laughed, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips, “I’d recognise that face from anywhere.”

At the greeting, Holden snorted, standing up and hoisting little Allison into his arm, letting her brace into his chest. Boy, he hadn't changed a bit, only getting more and more sexy with age it seemed like. And he’d grown that beard of his out a little bit, his face scruffy, but his bright eyes hadn’t faded at all. Hell, his curly black hair still sat atop his head like a crown, a perfectly coiled crown at that, and he still looked as fresh faced as when he did as a teenager. He’d grown another inch too.

“Christ, Stradlater,” Holden murmured, bewildered at bumping into someone like him again after god knows how long. He couldn't help but give him a once over.

Stradlater only chuckled back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tweed coat.  
“You look well, Holden,” Stradlater mused, his breath wafting in the air, “How’s it been for ya? Must’ve been like...seven, eight years since we last saw each other?”

Holden nodded,  
“Yeah, time’s been kind to you, obviously.”

“Oh cut the crap, we’re the same age.”

Holden cracked a smile at the quip, giving Allison a glance, who stayed quite silent and confused.

“Oh, uh, Ward, this’s my daughter, Allison,” Holden introduced, “She’s two years old, an’ she’s growing too fast to keep up with, isn't that right, huh?”  
Allison giggled at the comment and shyly looked over at Stradlater, who beamed a handsome smile and twinkled his fingers in greeting.

“I see you’ve still got that hat, huh?” Stradlater commented, “Suits her better than it ever did you.”

It was lighthearted, and Holden smirked at it. “You just wished you could’ve pulled it off as good as I did.”

The two exchanged a knowing smile at that.  
“Of all people though, never would I have pinned you for being a father,” Stradlater noted, “Are you sure she’s yours? I mean, she’s got your nose, but that’s it really.”

Funnily enough, Allison didn't take after him too much, apart from of course having the same bump on the nose. She had her mother’s eyes, but she looked far more like Allie than him. Sometimes it hurt to look at her, but she always looked at him with eyes full of love regardless. Whether it be here in the park feeding those ducks, or if he was drunkenly throwing up in the can. He still did that a lot.

“I’m eighty percent sure she’s mine,” Holden returned, giving Allison a soft look, “She’s by far the best thing to ever happen to me...what about you? How have you been? Wouldn't be hard for you to find a misus.”

Allison now clung tightly to the collar of his jacket, kneading her little fingers into the sheep’s wool. 

God, Holden could practically hear his sixteen year old self screaming that he was nothing but a phony for engaging in such small talk with a phony like Stradlater, but that teenager didn't know anything. Sometimes it was rather nice to just talk, without it amounting to much. Life’s a cruel sonovabitch anyway, might as well enjoy it while it lasts, and that disturbed teenage boy took a while to learn it, but it's a lesson well learnt. If he could, he’d go back in time and give that broken boy a hug because he needed it, he really did. 

“Nope,” Stradlater stated, popping his p, “And what about you? I take it you’re all settled with a lady? Or...girlfriend?”

Holden caught Stradlater staring at his left hand, and in pure reflex he flicked his cuff up a little more, for that stupid scar went right to the heel of his palm. He swore that he saw Stradlater mouth ‘boyfriend?’ to him. A word like that didn't offend him anymore at least.  
“Nah, I’m on my own, but it’s better like that if you’re askin’ me.” Holden answered honestly, “Jus’ me an’ Allison here, but we’re happy, we sure are.”

Allison shyly nodded, hiding her face in Holden’s shoulder, and he gave her a gentle pat on the back. Really, Stradlater wasn't a bad guy, and looking back at it now he was a bit of an ass to blow up at him over Jane like that, he didn't know after all, and it wasn't like Jane was interested in Holden like that anyway.   
Ol’ Jane was still a breath of fresh air, she was busy all the time, still dancing her feet off on stage with a ballet troupe in a new town every night. But whenever they did see each other, it was always too short. She loved Allison though, she had a chocolate for her every time she saw her.

“Fair ‘nuff,” Stradlater agreed, “Just wonderin’, but do you work at that ice cream shop? The one on the corner, italian one...I swear I’ve seen you through the window a few times.”

Holden set his lips in a tight line, but nodded all the same. Really, he enjoyed working at that ice-cream shop. He loved kids, and he loved seeing them happy, and despite the work being repetitive, sometimes busy and sometimes getting older customers yelling at him over the pettiest of things (by far the worst was when his sleeves were rolled up a bit, and a bitch of a woman flat out told him that his scar was scaring her kid, who by the way, didn't look bothered in the slightest from the way he smiled when Holden handed him his cone, but at least it was a one time thing). The good certainly outweighed the bad. Really, his mother insisted that he should’ve been a teacher not too long ago with how good he was with kids, but as soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them, remembering exactly how he felt about teachers.

“Yeah, you got me, that’s me...it’s quite good, actually, can’t lie, I’m being honest.” Holden insisted, “What about you? Take it you’re a hotshot lawyer now?”

“Banker.”

“That’s even worse.”

“Not as bad as dealing with customers all day.”

Holden snorted at that, “It’s not as bad as you think, no kidding...hey, uh, would you like a drink sometime? Just for old times sake.”  
He glanced at Allison, who still patiently stayed against him.

“Daddy, I wanna go pee.” Allison whispered to him, and Holden knew he had to make it quick, giving her an affirmative nod. 

Stradlater shrugged, picking up on the mini exchange before patting his pockets and taking his wallet, a rather fine leather one at that, and pulling out a little card for Holden. How phony could he get? Having an embellished business card and all.  
“You must be pretty lonely to wanna have a drink with me,” Stradlater mused, and Holden caught the smile that tugged at his lip, “But sure, I got time...call me.”

God, if he were any of the wiser, Stradlater must’ve been eyeing him for a while for some reason. But it was rather true, he had been on his own recently. Not that he minded of course, but it would be nice to chew the fat with someone apart from the caregivers at the kindergarten, who only ever talked about what’s been on at the movies or asked where Allison’s mother was, and really, he didn't want to answer that. He couldn't even lie about it. Sometimes it was awkward being the only father to show up.

“See ya then...Hey, Allison, you gonna say bye to ol’ Ward?”

As shy as she was, Holden still smiled softly as she had it in her to very meekly say goodbye, to whom Stradlater had it in himself to tell her that it was a pleasure to meet her. Pleasure to meet her, his fucking ass, he barely talked to her...but he appreciated that Ward was polite to his daughter, all in all. 

Even as they turned the other way, Holden still caught out of the corner of his eye ol Stradlater giving his behind a once over. It killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stradlater takes up Holden's invitation, but there's a few misunderstandings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a non consensual kiss at the end of the chapter, but nothing goes beyond that.

As much as Holden was anticipating this little catchup, he still couldn't help but feel nothing short of nervous, despite this being only ol Stradlater. Hell, the two shared a cramped up room for a year, seen each other at their highs and lows, covered up and stripped bare, but just the idea of getting a drink after so much has happened since then just felt terrifying. Granted, ever since little Allison crashed into his life, that tiny little girl being the equivalent of a freight train and him tied to the tracks, every other sort of relationship in his life seemed to have dipped. Time spent on dates was now spent figuring out how to cook a good meal (something that didn't come from a box) and when he would usually be flirting with whoever came his way, was recycled to tucking Allison into bed with a short bedtime story, before crashing on the couch or his unmade mattress with a bottle of beer and bowl of ice-cream, utterly exhausted and coinked out by nine.

Knowing that he was seeing and having a drink with Stradlater was, Jesus Christ, probably the first time he’d actually seen and shared a drink with an acquaintance within a year. Could he even remember how to do so? What if they had simply changed so much they couldn't connect like they used to? At least Stradlater still seemed cool, for Holden still felt guilty for asking him to come to his unit instead of meeting at a bar somewhere, for he simply couldn't leave Allison alone.

At least he was coming over at nine, but knowing him, he’d be a few minutes late. Allison was already well and tucked into bed, and he was glad that she’d taken to living in the other tiny little room instead of his own, for Holden had a feeling that tonight _might_ just go in that direction. Just in case, he made sure to only eat lightly today. Stradlater didn't say it was a date, but who knows? The guy could’ve turned into a complete flit after leaving Pencey, for God knows that so many of those classmates he’d seen over the years had. Not him though, _not_ him. Being half-flit wasn't the same.

He hoped Stradlater wouldn't mind that he was utterly casual, with jeans, a jacket and a clean shirt, for that rapping at the door certainly sealed his doom.  
Stradlater, of course, held his facade of looking put together, but Holden really knew the guy was still set deep in his slobbish ways. But despite that, he still looked gorgeous. And if he were any wiser, he’d say that Stradlater looked pleased to see him. Christ, he was _gorgeous._

“So can I come in, or are you just gonna stand there?” Stradlater greeted with a smug half smile, and Holden mentally prepared himself for those two playful claps on the cheeks, and he didn't even pull a face this time. Stepping aside, Holden let him dump his coat on the floor, and out of the corner of his eye ol’ Stradlater inspected the apartment in a slightly nosey way.

His apartment was nowhere near as rich as what he grew up with, he’d much rather earn his wealth than mooch off his parents forever, but it was enough for him. A simple leather couch, a bookshelf absolutely full of various books, both his own and for Allison, with a coffee table stained with water rings, piled high with mugs and old newspapers. The kitchen itself was quite small and modest, and the dinner table was right up against the wall with only three rickety chairs. Most of that furniture he’d bought secondhand, he really did.

“Lager alright?”

“Sure.”

Settling at the modest dinner table with a bottle each, a few more in front of them for good measure, they sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at each other, not even denying it.  
Looking at him like this, Holden could still only admire the guy; from the tight curls of his ebony hair, the generous covering of scruff on his face, and that despite ten years having passed, he still looked rather decent. Not a single gray hair to be seen and not even the ghost of a wrinkle yet. Still, he was sure the guy still shaved with that crummy razor, as decent as he looked.

“And you say you’re only twenty-six.” Stradlater mused out of the blue, “Christ, double the grey hairs, have they started offering you senior’s discounts yet?”

Holden snorted at the comment. “Yeah, at least that’s one more dollar in my pocket.”

The snide comments broke the silence, and Holden let himself smile. But Christ, his palms were still sweaty. It still felt a little awkward between them though.

“I take it your girl’s in bed? Shame, she seemed nice.” Stradlater commented, taking a swig, “Allison? You said her name was?”

“Yeah, after Allie. She looks like him too.” Holden answered, licking his lips, “You were right, she doesn't look anything like me, guess that all skipped a generation.”

“I pity her if she has your looks,” Stradlater joked, “No, no I’m kidding. You’re not doing too bad yourself really.”

Boy, Holden felt himself getting a little hot under the collar at that. As if it weren't warm in here already. Even after all those years, that puppy crush didn't quite go away, that smile of his still got to him.

“Cut the crap, how’s it been with the girls? Must have them throwing themselves at ya.”

Stradlater rolled his eyes at that, “Oh great, another _Holden_ question, the very first thing ya go to...You havent changed.”

“Please, the only thing I’ve changed is my wank hand.”

“Charming...Nah, haven't been with any women lately,” Stradlater answered honestly, “Just been doing my thing with the guys. You?”

Christ, at least he wasn't the only one suffering from a lack of connections. Maybe that’s why they were desperate to the point of actually going through with this awkward meeting. Holden shook his head.

“Since Allison? Nah, nothing at all. I’m on my own.” Holden mused, “And I take it you’re the same?”

Stradlater nodded. “Yeah...but enough about that, how have you been? It’s been years, all I heard along the grapevine was that you went crazy, like _psycho ward_ crazy.” He said with a shiver, “Don’t know how true it is though, but you seem a lot better than you did back then.”

Holden truly felt strange about answering that question, more so for he was afraid of how Stradlater would react. “Yeah, yeah I was put in the crazy ward.” He answered truthfully, “But it’s not _really_ for that, just some other shit, mental shit...But I wasn't crazy, I’m better now! I’m better, no kidding, check my medical records if you wanna. It’s all on there.”

Stradlater snorted, “Nah, I’m good, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

It was hard to believe someone as good looking as Stradlater spent every night as alone as./ he did. What a way to keep his own hopes up.

“Anyway, you really do _look_ better,” Stradlater continued, “You enjoy fatherhood? Or is it as overrated as everyone else says it is?”

Now this was more of his forte. “Nah, nah I’m loving it, it’s great. No kidding, it’s hard, but I like it...sorta gives a bit of meaning to everything, y’know? It’s like I’m living for someone else now instead of jus’ myself...She’s a bright kid, loves th’ ducks, I’m being honest, now that she’s with me I can’t imagine life without her.”

That made Stradlater crack a smile, a gentle one, an honest one. “Well, looks like you’ve found your calling, huh? You’re the last person I’d expect to be a dad, a good one at that, but y’sound like you’re doing pretty well.”

Holden felt a small surge of pride at that. Not like he needed the validation of others, of course not...but it felt nice. He found himself mirroring that smile. God knows it’s been too long since someone smiled at him like that. Even if it was ol’ Stradlater giving it to him of all people.

“She’s...she’s young, but it scares me, she’ll catch onto that she doesn't have a mother, God knows how I’m going to explain that to her.” Holden quipped, partly joking, partly not, “What do I even tell her? _‘Daddy fucked a stranger and begged her to keep it?’_ Shit no, I dunno.”

Now _that_ got a snort from him, “Jesus Christ, Holden, I thought you were all about shielding kids from that kinda stuff, have you changed your life’s philosophy since then?”

“I mean...a little? We all change, you grew up, I grew up, we all grew up to be the people our teenage selves hated at some point...God, I’d deck that kid in the face.”

“Hey, hey c’mon now, don’t be so harsh--look, we’ve _all_ done embarrassing shit as kids, some more than others an’ God you were a pain in the ass an’ a _real_ sonovabitch when y’wanted to be, but we _all_ were at some point, y’know? Fuck me, I’d join you ‘coz I was a lil shit too...but let’s try not to be so hard on ourselves, hm? Who’s it helpin’, huh?”

Christ, Stradlater grew up, and he’d grown a couple more brain cells while he was at it. A large hand shook his shoulder, gave him a comforting pat on the back, and Holden hated how much he leaned into it. With age, Stradlater must’ve gotten wiser, tucked some wisdom in the sleeve where he kept his cigarettes. He never thought he’d live to see the day where pigs flew. Then again, he’d learnt how to be a little more humble as well. Really, he didn't hate his teenage self, he knew that boy was just...he was scared, and confused, and hurting, with no one to turn to he could trust, because who else could understand what he was going through? Of course he was lashing out like that, but those lashes he eventually turned inwards into himself and...he didn't like to think about the rest. It depressed him.

“Okay, you weren't _all_ bad, trust me, you were real smart, smart as shit, I’d’ve never gotten through English if it wer--”

“Hey, Stradlater.”

At once, Stradlater shut his trap, and with the look Holden gave him, he kept it closed. Christ, now he was feeling guilty over it.

“Look, I-I know I did some very stupid things back then, towards you especially, an’ I’m sorry about that, I really am.”

Boy, even thinking about his teenage years put a lump in his throat. A real one, a hard one that he couldn't swallow. To think that at one stage he thought he’d never have been able to even get to this point in life. A lot really had changed within ten years, huh? Stradlater grew wiser and matured, Jane travelled and danced the roads in her ballet shoes everywhere she went, while he’s just getting by day to day, doing what’s best for Allison and him. And to think that he almost completely lost it all. It made him sick, it damn well did. Completely on instinct, Holden pulled his arms in, slipping his fingers under the cuff of his left arm to stroke at that raised scar, an old habit of comfort that despite how many years went by, was by far the only constant in his ever changing life. God, that stupid lump just wouldn't leave his throat, and now he was choking on it a little. Stradlater must’ve picked up on it, for he kept quiet too, and slung an arm around Holden’s shoulders. Usually he’d shrug off such a phony act, but it felt nice, really nice to not feel so alone for once.

“Holden, you don’t need to apologise, I’m passed all it now,” Stradlater assured, in a voice so gentle and understanding, “Besides, breaking your nose made up for it all, don’t ya think so?”

Boy, that caught Holden off guard, and the lump in his throat dislodged with his obnoxious laugh at that, giggling and yipping like a ten year old, that’s what, and Stradlater mirrored it in his own way, but rather with gentle wheezes.

“Yeah, yeah--f-fair enough,” Holden agreed with a sniff, “Fuck, lookit, still got that bump, never had it reset or anything.”

To make his point, Holden ran his finger along his nose, rubbing that small bump on his bridge. Sure, he already had one, born with it, but Stradlater’s brutal fist had only made it worse. But hey, whenever he was asked about it, it gave him the chance to cooly shrug it off, say that he got it in some fight with a real loser, but act like it’s no big deal. Girls loved that kind of shit, but only when you didn't make a big ruckus about it.

“Anyway...you seen anyone else from Pencey?” Holden asked, “I know they had that phony reunion a while ago, I didn't go as you’d imagine.”

“Fuck, you still love that word, huh?” Stradlater noted, “Yeah, I have, I see Ackley around quite a bit believe it or not.”

Now _that_ Holden couldn't believe. Ackley was insufferable! Boy, if he was a thorn in Stradlater’s side, Ackley was the...the truck that killed him and splattered him under its wheels, all gory or something. He didn't care, his brain never worked well after a couple of drinks.

 _“Bullshit_ , you don’t!” Holden returned, while Stradlater thinly smiled and raised his eyebrows.

“Nope, I do. He’s cleaned himself up well, believe me. He’s actually married now, but...Holden, promise me y’won’t tell anyone else I said this, right?” Stradlater suddenly leaned in real close, and though Holden cringed at his shit breath, he nodded, “--Ackley is by far _the biggest flit_ I’ve ever met.”

Stradlater slowly pulled away, letting the news sink in. Really though, Ackley, that prim and proper good ol’ man of God, a queer? Holden laughed.

“Jesus...Christ, well, alright, never thought he’d’ve been one but alright...wait, how’d you know anyway?” Holden guessed, “Is there some sorta flit register you gotta put your name down on or something? Tell me.”

Stradlater smiled and shook his head, reaching into his coat and without even asking, took a small box of cigarettes from his pocket and offered Holden one, who gladly accepted, and lit them both with a single light.

“Why? What do you think about it?” Stradlater asked, and Holden felt that the guy was guarding something.

“I mean, I don’t have a problem with flits, they’re just doing their own thing, y’know?” Holden said, then blew some smoke right at Stradlater playfully, “Who cares? I don’t.”

Stradlater studied him, _absolutely scrutinized_ him for a solid minute.

“I’ll tell y’one thing about them flits, it takes one to _know_ one.” Stradlater admitted, “I gotta say, I’ve had quite the eye for it too, _Holden.”_

At once, Holden felt that pit in his gut grow, and boy, he almost did choke on that smoke in his throat, completely speechless. He wasn't dumb, he knew what Stradlater meant by adding his name in there.

“I’m no flit.” Holden steadily said, taking another drag.

“And I’m not one either.” Stradlater retorted, and cupped his hand over the one Holden rested on the table.

Really, it unnerved him how on the ball he was. Really, he wasn't a _full_ flit, that’s for sure, but he’d be lying if he said he’s never lain with another man before. He certainly still liked girls, no doubt about it, and that wasn't a flit thing, because _flits didn't like girls_. A word he’d heard from one of those men he bedded once was that he might’ve been a bisexual. Hey, at least it wasn't a flit. He’d had many flitty experiences over the years, going from simply admiring the way men looked, to full out being on his knees for them sometimes. Boy, it killed him. Some men were just _really_ good looking, and you didn't have to be a flit to know it.

Wait, was Stradlater really? No, he couldn't be, _Stradlater_...maybe?

“So if....I’m not a flit, what are you?” Holden asked in suspicion, “I won’t judge, or rat you out.”

“I’m... _a bisexual.”_ Stradlater answered clear as day, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “That’s all to it really. Always pinned you for someone like that too. Like I said, takes one to know one.”

Now he could really feel his heart fluttering around like a hummingbird in a cage. Christ, Stradlater really had him there, and boy he could lie about it like he always did, but he knew that Stradlater would pick up on it, just like he picked up on ol’ Luce being a flit all those years ago.

“Yeah?” Holden said, “Guess that's one thing we’ve got in common then.”

It felt...strange, he’d never really used that word to describe himself like that before. It fit, no doubt about that, but it didn't take away just how strange it all felt. It also struck him as strange how Stradlater could be so _candid_ about it, God knows he knew what happened to men like them, flit or half-flit. They lose everything, they never win; they lose friends, they lose their family, they lose all sense of security, they get lumped in with the pedophiles...To have that label on you was nothing but suicide with extra steps.  
Also explained why Stradlater was eyeing him up that few days ago in the park. It didn't offend him however, in any other circumstance he would’ve decked them, but to be frank it felt nice to have someone like Stradlater looking at him like that. Someone familiar.

He also noticed that Stradlater had started wearing a plain silver ring on his middle finger.

“Please, we’ve got more in common than _that_ ,” Stradlater laughed, “Now that I think about it...I’ve never noticed those freckles before.”

He couldn't blame Stradlater, they were quite pale, and not like he had many of them. “Thanks? I dunno, I’ve always had them.”

“Yeah? They look nice, _cute_ even.”

“Okay, you’re pushin’ the line, I’m not _cute_ , you phony.”

Stradlater snorted at that, finishing his second bottle. “No, you are and always were, in some weird way. I’m not twisting your arm, you’re not a bad looking fella, would’ve thought you’d’ve had someone to go home to at least.”

Holden wasn't sure if he was flattered or slightly insulted by that.

“Thanks, moron.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Of course, a slight downside to fatherhood was knowing exactly when something was up with your kids, in this case, Holden picked up the usual tossing and turning from Allison’s room, just on the other side of the wall. Must be another nightmare.

“I’ll be back, one tick.” Holden assured, taking a few gulps of his beer and getting up, dusting the ash from his shirt as he quietly opened her door.

As expected, the tot was wriggling and thrashing around her blankets, getting all tangled up in them again, and everyone knows how wild kids’ imaginations are. Making sure to stay quiet, Holden took to her bedside, and as he always did, held the distressed tot’s shoulder gently, lightly shaking her awake.

 _“Allison, c’mon darling, wake up,”_ Holden gently whispered, crouching down so he was at her level. Shaking her shoulder a little harder, she finally woke up with a particularly rough shudder, staring wide eyed at him, her eyes bright in the pinpricks of light behind him, and he kept his hand there in a small gesture of comfort. “There, there, another bad dream?”

The girl nodded, her lip quivering, and she held her tiny arm out to him, wanting a hug. Of course, she sat up and all but fell into his shoulder, holding his shirt tightly with her little fists, and as always Holden felt his heart pang for her, for it was never nice for either of them. But he held her, let her whimper on his shoulder and bury herself into his shirt, just as his own mother used to do when he was younger. She felt so small.

“It’s just a dream, it can’t hurt you,” Holden assured in the most gentle of voices he could muster, rubbing her back with his hand, “I’m here, I’m here.”

Her little whimpers and cries soon subsided, and he couldn't care for the wet stain on his shoulder as she rested back onto her bed, picking her feet out of her tangled sheets and wiping her eyes. Seeing her upset always hurt him the worst, and he joined her in untwisting those sheets, straightening them back out and pulling them back up to her chin, feeling around in the dark to tuck them under the mattress just a little more.

“Better?”

She hummed in response, and said in that small voice all kids had, “Thank you daddy.”

It never failed to make him smile and feel all warm inside.

“Goodnight sweet pea, you’re safe, an’ I’m always here.”

Holding her little hand, he placed a kiss to her forehead, and then gave her short hair a loving stroke, right before he left and carefully shut the door behind him. Stradlater was still at the table, giving him a funny look, a smile that reached his eyes.

“From what I heard in there, you sound like a good dad.” Stradlater commented as Holden returned to his place, giving him a playful footsie. Holden couldn't help it, he flushed a little at the praise. Compliments were few and far between.

“Jus’ doing what every dad should do,” Holden retorted, taking a swig.

“Mine certainly didn't,” Stradlater said, “Y’know most dads I’ve seen just leave it up to their wives to look after their kids, an’ when their kids are all grown up an’ shit, they don't want anything to do with ‘em anymore...Really, I mean it, you’re a good dad, Holden. She’s gonna be a good kid.”

Wow...he didn't quite know what to think of that, even his own parents couldn't say that about him.

“I...thank you.” Holden dumbly replied, a little taken aback by it all, and he felt Stradlater pat his back again, this time quite close to the nape of his neck, enough to brush the short hairs there.

He didn't expect for Stradlater to take total control over the situation and lean over and lock his lips with his own, in a kiss tinted with cigarette smoke and alcohol.

_Fuck._

Holden didn't even breathe, in fact he couldn't even close his eyes as Stradlater kissed him. But he couldn't return it at all, in fact, it only made him think of some rather bitter times. Times he really didn't want to remember right now.

He didn't start it, but he was the one to break it off, pushing against Stradlater’s shoulder and prying his lips off his own.

God, what the _fuck_ was that for? Did he...no he could’ve sworn their night wasn't going that way, and now that lightness in his gut turned heavy, and it boiled and burnt him like acid. He felt _scared_. Christ, he wasn't expecting that, not at all, and boy it caught him off guard.

Stradlater stared at him, with eyes as wide as his own, and Holden watched as he licked his lips, and Holden could only see his own shock reflected in him too.  
Holden swallowed thickly, and keeping his lip from quivering, he shook his head.

“Stradlater, I think you should leave, y-you’ve got the wrong idea.” Holden quietly asked of him, trying to keep his voice steady, for he could feel it shaking in his throat.

“Holden, shit, I’m _sorry_...I really thought this was going the--”

“No, please, not right now--Leave, I-I don’t wanna have to ask you again.”

Stradlater looked like he wanted to say more, wanted to plead with him that it was a mistake, and if they could just pretend like it never happened...but that never came.

“Okay,” Stradlater stated, looking nothing short of a guilty man, and he took a shuddering breath, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave. Thank you for having me, Holden Caulfield.”

He didn't even watch Stradlater as he up and left, and he didn't even say goodbye. But as the door clicked...he felt hollow, and scared, and...He didn't quite know what to make from his ball of emotions right now, all separate strings that with a simple gesture had become completely and utterly twisted and tangled into each other, with no hopes of straightening them out.  
Now that he was alone, he let that lump in his throat rise up again and his lip quiver, quietly sobbing with the scent of Stradlater’s cologne in his brain and his taste still bitter on his lips.

It killed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies are made, among other things too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small content warning for masturbation, if that ain't your thing (also this is unedited, and it was going to be three chapters but Christ kill me this has turned into a monster of a fic)

Boy, those events still swarmed his head, buzzing at Holden like wasps to the point where he had all but given up on sleeping, choosing to just toss and turn, trying to get comfortable. Even the typical late night jerk off didn't help, in fact, it only made it worse.  
Why did Stradlater kiss him? Was he leading him on or something? Was it a misunderstanding? What if Stradlater was just being nice to him, because sure he’s seen some guys kiss their friends out of pure affection, but this just didn't feel right. Even with brushing his mouth real good, he could still taste Stradlater on his lips.   
Really, it wasn't the act itself, it’s rather how off guard it took him. If he’d simply _asked_ or something, something to at least prepare him, he might’ve even said yes! (actually, that was a lie, he _would’ve_ said yes) but all that anxiety only made his mind boil it down to more unpleasant events, events that he’d rather forget about altogether. It was just instinct, Stadlater might’ve not meant him any harm, but how was he to know that? One minute they were happily chatting and not even the next Stradlater was doing that to him. He...didn't understand.   
At least he left when he asked, thank god he didn't try to argue with him over it.   
  
It was only when he left for work in the morning, Allison in tow to drop her off at his parent’s house, did he see that Stradlater had left his coat where he’d chucked it in a heap on the floor last night. 

\---

That coat haunted him, boy it did so all week. Of course, Holden took the liberty to take it up off the floor and hang it over one of the chairs along the kitchen table, for it would be such a shame for a rather nice coat to be all wrinkled. It wasn't the best of coats, but someone like Stradlater always bought quality; a deep navy blue, the collar with chestnut fur, and the lining all quilted, nice and warm. That only lasted two days, before he couldn't bear to look at it any longer. For the next day, the cursed coat was neatly folded up and stored in a brown paper bag, sitting on the table, but then he got tired of looking at it and moved the damn thing to his room, way up in the closet. He didn't hate Stradlater, not in the least, he could never truly hate anyone (that was also a lie, he hated a lot of people and he knew it) and Stradlater certainly wasn't one of them. Chrissakes, Holden knew he should give the guy a call, tell him _‘Hey, you left your coat here, you want it still or should I keep it?’_ but boy he was absolutely _useless_ at calling people over the phone, never seemed to be in the right mindset for it. That wasn't to say he didn't flirt with the idea, however, keeping Stradlater’s card pinned to the wall next to the receiver, always there at the corner of his eye. Sometimes he even managed to punch a few numbers in, before promptly slamming it back down again.   
  
Phony. _Absolute_ phony.   
  
\---   
  
Even almost a week later, Holden _still_ couldn't get it out of his head, replaying that kiss in his head almost every night, as much as it confused and yet intrigued him. He’d be lying if he said he didn't imagine kissing Stradlater before, even more than that, back when he had that puppy crush on him as a sixteen year old who didn't know any better. Just about every young pervert’s dream, to get roomed with someone like Stradlater, always effortlessly handsome, who could be very well sexy even when he wasn't trying. His habit of wandering around the dorms shirtless didn't help with that at all, and more than once he’d linger on his figure for just a bit too long. It killed him, damn well murdered his young eyes. Those flitty thoughts always disgusted him later on though, but not after a good wank in the can late at night.   
  
And lying in bed, alone on a Friday night with nothing else to do? He wanted to feel the way he was back then, as much as it disgusted him for stooping so low.   
  
Getting up out of bed with a sigh, and turning on the lamp, he almost stopped himself, but oh he was much too far gone, reaching on his tiptoes for that paper bag at the very top of his closet, before shucking it off with a crinkle and giving the coat a hearty flick out, holding it up and admiring it as it were. A damn nice coat. And not like him and Stradlater hadn't worn each other’s clothes before, boy, Holden fondly remembered ‘borrowing’ Stradlater’s clothes, which were always just a size too big for him, but were simply the best. If Stradlater noticed, the bugger kept it to himself.   
  
Swaddling himself in the coat, he tugged his arms through the sleeves, straightening it up, and of course the first thing he did was stare at it in the adjourning mirror. It didn't look bad, not bad at all. _Really_ not bad. Even though all he wore with it was a raggy old shirt and boxer briefs, it still didn't look bad at all. It certainly made him look like a flit though. It was one thing for boys to wear each other’s clothes, but it was a whole other thing for men to, even if they were rather nice clothes. He knew the implication. Made his legs look hella fine though, that’s for sure.   
  
As much as that guilt settled in his gut as he did so, he sniffed the collar, just a little bit, and to his surprise it still smelt of Stradlater, and his expensive cologne. Funny that, he still wore the same brand as he did all those years ago, and the scent endured a small nostalgia trip. His teenage years were absolute horseshit, but that year with Stradlater was certainly one of the nicest parts of it. Sticking his hands in the pockets, the only thing that came out of it was a battered box of matches, a handkerchief, and strangest of all, a tiny folding comb. Count on him to have something like that, typical self absorbed phony with a handsome face.   
  
But wearing that coat made him giddy, much like a schoolboy again, to take it off now would rather waste the moment, wouldn't it? This time, lying flat against the bed was not as stressful, swaddled in that coat. Christ, it was warm, and cosy, and it felt like a hug. When was the last time he even had a hug, apart from Allison?   
  
God could weep all he wanted at his flitty actions, but was it really so bad to imagine that it was indeed Stradlater holding him tight right now? It was a nice thought, to be held snug. No kidding. To be loved unconditionally and affectionately, a love that he too would have no trouble returning, for he himself had a lot of love but not many people to give it to lately. If he just closed his eyes, and thought real good, he could almost feel that gentle breath on his neck, that comforting pressure flush against his back, with a leg crooked up against his own and a strong arm around his middle. Chrissakes, he was pathetic. The thought dried his mouth out, and all too soon he was feeling those pinpricks of arousal. Was he really going this low? Getting flustered at the simple idea of being held?   
  
Boy, he tried to will it away, he really did, even going so far as to think of Mr Spencer and how he picked his nose and wore singlets too low for a seventy year old man, the ones that showed off his scraggly grey chest hair and pronounced veins to the world. But not even that revolted him, and he resigned himself to the fact that it was just one of _those_ nights. Not like he’d jerked off to the idea before. Hell, those fantasies he’d indulge in as a teenager aged like fine wine a lot of the time, whether it be random attractive people he’d seen or those puppy crushes that came and went. Stradlater was in a few of them.   
  
With Stradlater’s cologne soaked collar clouding his vision, it was a fantasy to lose himself in to the point where it overpowered the guilt he should’ve been feeling as he palmed himself through his briefs, leaning into it, rubbing ever so slightly. Fuck, he knew he had to stay quiet, and he only took small and steady breaths between slightly parted lips, amused at the slight whistle from his teeth. Stradlater was a good whistler. He remembered those tunes he whistled while he shaved with a rusty razor, clear as day. Letting out a deeper sigh, through the fabric he rubbed his head between his fingers, the other hand clutched to that damned coat--   
  
At rustling from Allison’s room, he cursed under his breath, and froze up as stiff as a dead bird. Sort of hard to stay still with butterflies bursting through your stomach and your heart fluttering like a trapped hummingbird.   
Thankfully, it resided almost as quickly as it started, and he reached over to turn off the lamp.   
  
Now in darkness, with nothing but the coat and ribbons of artificial light streaming in from the cracks between the blinds, he could get back to where he left off.   
  
Hitching a breath, his fingers went back to his head again, and he curled himself up almost shamefully, pressing the collar against his nose, drawing in lungfuls of that scent and guided by instinct alone, allowed his hand to dip under the band. To say that touch is a release is an understatement, for even just ghosting his hand along his half hard shaft, it was enough to draw a breathy sigh from him, but as soon as he wrapped his fingers around it with a generous amount of pressure, his teeth were clenched once again. Being careful not to make a sound, slowly, he rolled his hips into his hand, gasping a little as the side of his fist grounded right to the hilt. It was so _easy_ to imagine that breath tickling the back of his neck, that whistling sigh, and that this pleasure wasn't of his own accord, but rather drawn out by the bastard himself. Fuck, he could almost feel it now, his own name whispered into his ear, Stradlater’s own arousal pressing against him, a hand that knew him so intimately, thumbing his head and swiping fingers over his sensitive frenulum. Those whines only built up in his throat, and he found himself desperately trying to choke them back, clamping the collar to stifle them as he felt himself getting close, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling those shudders trickle through him and his hips roll forwards, his feverish hand pulling him through, for he couldn't stop his back arching and his head from craning back with it as he finished what he started, and as much as he’d’ve wanted to cry out, it took every part of him to release it in a steady but strained sigh that so nearly killed him.   
  
The fantasy melted away all too fast, leaving him utterly alone and shuddering in the dark once again, the only company his heartbeat drumming away in his ears and his only evidence the white pearls beading over his fingers.   
  
\---   
  


Finally, almost as soon as he woke, Holden plucked up the courage to finally, _finally_ give ol' Stradlater a call back. 

  
_"Hello? Ward Stradlater speakin'."_

God, even that voice still sounded perfect, despite everything. 

"Yeah, Stradlater? This's Holden, Holden Caulfield."

The line went dead for a few seconds, and those nerves of his left him feeling shaky. 

_"Oh, Holden, I--First off, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for what I did,"_ Stradlater apologised, _"--well, wh-what do you want? Is there anything I can do?"_

"You left your coat behind." Holden cut the crap, just getting right into it. 

_"I--oh, uh… Am I able to pick it up today? If that's alright with you? Or you could leave it, uh, in the letterbox or somethin'."_

How thoughtful… Crissakes, it was quite a thoughtful idea, but those sons of bitches down the street already had a habit for nicking his mail simply because it was there, no doubt a coat would last five minutes. Besides, he sorta missed his stupid face despite it all.

  
“Stradlater, I don't mind if you come up here to get it, no kidding.” Holden quickly said into the receiver, setting his lips in a tight line straight afterwards because christ, why the _fuck_ did he do that?

  
 _“If you don’t mind, are you sure?”_ Stradlater questioned, _“Y’know, you could just keep it if it’s too much of an issue, I don’t mind, I’ve got another one exactly li--”_

 _  
_ “No, no it’s your coat, not like it fits me anyway,” Holden swiftly returned, “It’s cold out, I’ll be here for the whole day fuckin’ around, come whenever.” 

  
Before Stradlater could even respond, Holden quickly hung the phone up, and boy that conversation got his heart drumming again, and those butterflies returned as well. He had a nice voice. But it depressed him, it depressed the _hell_ out of him.   
  


\--  
  
“Allison, c’mon, just a few more mouthfuls, please?” Holden pleaded, but Allison kept her mouth firmly shut. God, he tried to make sure she ate well, but it’s a little hard when she much prefered cookies over pumpkin soup. As he figured, the two year old shook her head defiantly. Time to bring out the one negotiation he knew of. “Look, if you finish that bowl, you’ll get _two_ cookies, now how does that sound?”   
  


The toddler seemed to ponder it over in her tiny head, gripping her spoon and staring at him blankly, before deciding that yeah it was a decent trade, and Holden felt nothing short of relieved as she slowly finished off her small bowl of soup.   
  
_“Good girl,”_ He congratulated, letting her eat as he fetched her reward.   
  
Sure, he wasn't the best baker, not the best cook either, but his mother was so generous as to write out copies of his favourite recipes in elegant writing on card, and give them all to him in a shoebox as a housewarming gift. A gift that has saved his useless arse more than once. He’d mastered his mother’s cookie recipe, one that Allison firmly adored, and her happiness made him happy.   
  
Three fast knocks at the door made his stomach lurch.   
  
Allison glanced over to him at the sound, and Holden quickly gave her her treat before slinging the nearest jacket on to cover his arms before answering it.   
  
Of course, Stradlater was there, holding a long paper bag in his gloved hands, that confidence he had from last time gone, faded into humble apology.   
  
“Holden.”   
  
“Hey.”   
  
Holden folded his arms and leaned against the doorway, meeting his eyes with nothing but an expression of disappointment. As phony as the whole act of ‘forgiveness’ was, he’d thought about it long and hard over the past few days. They weren't completely sober, so that would’ve influenced him, maybe he was leading him on a little bit and he just didn't know it himself, and chrissakes, there was just so much to it. He didn't hate Stradlater for it, no, but acts out of the blue like that always put him into fight or flight for some reason.   
  
“Listen, I’m sorry for what I did,” Stradlater started, “That was...I should’ve asked.”   
  
“I know.” Holden stiffly replied.   
  
“An-and I’m not asking for forgiveness, you don’t have to give me _anything,_ I just want to say I’m sorry.” And with that, Stradlater offered the bag to him, and Holden scrutinised it for a moment, before accepting the offer.   
  
“This’s on me too, I overreacted, I was pro--”   
  
“Holden, _no,_ no y’reacted perfectly fine, this--this isn’t you, this’s on me.” Stradlater assured, looking nothing short of apologetic.   
  
Really, he didn't hate ol’ Stradlater, not a little bit, not at all.   
  
“So you gonna come in? Or are ya just gonna stand there?”   
  
Holden stood aside for him, caught Stradlater's little sigh of relief, and he watched him twinkle his fingers at shy little Allison, letting him coo over her as he left the gift in the kitchen and went back for his coat. Really, he still felt guilty about jerking off while wearing it, and it was by some miracle that he didn't get anything on it. Okay, that was a lie, it was just a _little_ , but it came off easily enough with a wet rag, not like Stradlater would notice a single thing, for he was quite good at hiding his tracks, he really was. The damned coat hung up drying off over the bathroom door, and a quick pinch test, he felt it was dry enough and slung it over his arm. Sneaky one, Holden, sneaky. Stradlater certainly brightened up at seeing his coat still in one piece.   
  
“Thanks for lookin’ after it, I mean it.” Stradlater thanked, slinging it around his shoulders, “Y’know I...before I did that, I really was havin’ a nice time.”   
  
This time, it was Holden’s turn to be wistful, and a little depressed.   
  
“Yeah, I was too.”   
  
As much as he didn't want to admit it, it was rather a nice evening. Boy, it was the least lonely he’d felt in a...in a very long time. Out of nerves, he found himself biting the inside of his cheek, Stradlater looking just as nervous as he was.   
  
“Look, I’d--of course, you don’t _have_ to say yes, but I was thinkin’ that I’d, well, I’d like to do it again, jus’ without the, _y’know.”_ Stradlater awkwardly communicated, trying to avoid eye contact, but God it amused him to see Stradlater looking _flustered_ over it.   
  
“Ward, I’m telling you now, it wasn't that you did it, it was _how_ you did it.” Holden firmly responded, “I-I can forgive, not as heartless as you think, and yeah, yeah I’d like that. Actually I’d-- _really_ like it.”   
  
Oh he was useless, for at that bright smile growing on Stradlater’s handsome face, it tugged the corner of his own lip too.   
  
“Just, I can’t really leave, with Allison an’ all.”   
  
“Oh, I know a babysitter, I can give you her--”   
  
“I’m _not_ getting a babysitter!” Holden barked back, and as soon as the words left his lips he regretted it and swallowed thickly, “I’m sorry, I’m not gettin’ a babysitter.”   
  
Christ, way to blow it! Just when they were actually getting onto something, he had to pull a typical Holden move. That’s what it was, typical _Holden_ to get heated over the smallest of things, whether it be a kiss or the suggestion of a babysitter. Stradlater certainly looked taken aback by the sudden aggression, but he didn't question it. Thank fuck.   
  
“Hey, hey it’s no biggie, that’s fine. Here again? Or my place? She can stay in my spare room, if you’d like.”   
  
It was one thing to ask him to come over the first time, simply because he couldn't trust himself to leave Allison sleeping on her own to sneak out to a bar somewhere, he felt flat out guilty asking him to come over here again, when his place definitely didn't reflect the wealth they were both born into.   
  
“Here again?” Holden suggested, in a much more controlled voice, “I’m sorry, I’m just a lil--”   
  
“Protective?” Stradlater finished, with an understanding smile. Holden slowly nodded. It was a good excuse.   
  
“Yeah, protective.”   
  
Stradlater’s smile grew, and he clapped Holden’s cheeks cheerily with both hands, just he used to when they were boys.   
  
“That’s alright, how about tomorrow night? Same time?” Stradlater asked.   
  
“That’s fine by me.”   
  
And so it was settled. This time, he felt a lot better when he bade him goodbye. It felt nice to leave someone on happy terms, but at the same time it stung, because that’s how you knew you were gonna miss them.   
  
\----

Just like the night before, he struggled to sleep again. But this time it wasn't completely out of nerves, the _good_ kind though. Chrissakes, he hated every waking moment spent alone with his thoughts, and despite years upon years of therapy, he still beat himself up about it. How sometimes it hurt to look at Allison, not her fault of course, but she looked just so much like Allie. How he never wore anything with a high neck after what happened to James, and how just like what happened with Stradlater, he _panicked._ At any touch that triggered that little ‘fight or flight’ response, it didn't even have to be a kiss. He hated it, it killed him, that despite years of working through it, it never faded away. When the shrink told him, in that sweet and gentle voice of hers that some things just don’t go away with time, he cried himself to sleep. Funny that, he was by far the horniest guy he knew, but as soon as it actually got down to doing the deed? Half the time he panicked and fled, sometimes even halfway through weirdly enough. It was easy to beat himself up over it. Too easy.   
  
At the sound of the doorknob being twisted, he damn did jump a little bit, only to melt back into relief at it just being Allison again. He couldn't see that little girl in the dark, but there was only one kid who lived here, apart from him.   
  
“Allison?” He asked, propping himself up on an elbow, “You alright?”   
  
Wordlessly, she padded across the floor, and knowing that she was going to crawl into bed with him, he shifted back a little bit, and pushed the blankets back for her. Kids. Gotta love ‘em.   
  
He let her settle in close to him, curled up on her side facing him. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out her slightly shivering form, as she peered at him.   
  
“‘Nother nightmare?” Holden assumed, and at her little hum, he felt just a little bit dejected.   
  
Even as he held that little girl in his arms for the first time, he told himself that he would protect her, not let her experience the things that he befallen himself during his childhood. It came at a cost, how uncomfortable he always was around her teachers, how he always had a slight fear of leaving her with babysitters who weren't his parents or his siblings. Always double knotting her laces and making sure she had a warm hat and gloves tucked away in his pocket for her. But sometimes he couldn't be there for her, he couldn't protect her all the time. Couldn't always catch her when she scraped her knees, couldn't always stop her from feeling the cold, no matter how hard he tried. And sleep was one of those things he couldn't protect her in either. It depressed him, _so much._ _  
_ _  
_ All in all, Allison Caulfield was a sweet girl. Already she was so smart, he could feel it, and she was gonna be far smarter than he ever would be. She was bright, and she brought the sunshine with her everywhere she went. Really, she was one of the best things to ever happen to him, no kidding.

  
“I used to get ‘em too, still do.” Holden comforted, staring at her side-on, “I get it.”   
  
Reaching over, he took her tiny hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Boy, kids were adorable. How small she was compared to him too. It was a small fear of his that he’d roll over and he’d accidentally squish her in his sleep, but there was a good amount of distance between them here.   
  
Even though he couldn't see her too well, he heard that faint little hiccuping cry.   
  
“Oh sh--Allison, no, c’mere,” Chrissakes, that sound always got to him, and with a grunt, sat up against the headboard and pulled her in closer, letting her cry into his side. It depressed him, whatever she was dreaming about he had no idea, and not being able to help her killed him, “Allie, it’s--” fuck, he choked a little on the name, the face of his brother springing to mind at the mention, “It-it’s just a dream, you’re safe here, I mean it.”   
  
He couldn't remember falling asleep, and he woke up with a kink in his neck from sleeping upright against the headboard, but with Allison curled up under his arm, peacefully dosing.   
  
\----   
  
Funnily enough, this time around he wasn't as nervous as last time, not even kidding. Sure, he still had a couple of butterflies fluttering around his gut, but despite everything which happened last time...he was weirdly calm about it. Stradlater apologised, of course, he couldn't possibly mean any harm this time. He was respectful about it, really, quite rare for someone to be able to apologise and admit wrongdoing like he did. Hell, he never had a taste for wine, but that bottle of expensive red Stradlater apology gifted in a humble paper bag yesterday was rather generous of him. He was always sorta generous like that. Gotta love him for it.   
  
Stradlater came a little earlier this time. And he still wore that damned blue coat. Still, he was a little anxious seeing him standing in his doorway regardless.   
  
“Hey.”   
  
“Hey...You comin’ in or what?”   
  
Stradlater snorted, and just like always, gave his cheeks a couple of quick soft claps.   
  
“Thanks for havin’ me over, Holden, I appreciate it.”   
  
Holden made sure to double lock the door, and he watched as Stradlater hung his coat on the back of his chair this time. Joining him on the other side of the table, Holden took it upon himself to crack a couple of bottles open, offering a quick cheers before once again they were in silence, just staring at each other, neither quite sure to figure out how to start the night off.   
  
“Y’know I was thinkin’ about what you said last time we met, about it, a couple of things actually.” Stradlater admitted, “You said it wasn't that I did it, but it was _how_ I did it...What did you mean by that?”   
  
Well, shit. Now he’d really backed himself into a hard place.   
  
“Well, uh, what did _you_ think it meant?”   
  
Smooth. Real smooth. Absolutely nailed it.   
  
“I dunno about you, but it sounded like you wouldn’t have minded it, if I’d asked first, would you?”   
  
Fuck, no, he didn't have this at all, Jesus Christ. Weakly, he nodded. At that, Stradlater sighed deeply, really sitting back in his chair, being a little smug about it too.   
  
“Knew it, also, the first thing you did, you blamed yourself...why? It wasn't on you, not at all.”   
  
God, as much as he would’ve wanted to, he really couldn't answer that question. Not like he was going to tell Stradlater of all people all those twenty plus times it happened as a kid and teenager. He couldn't help it, it was something that he always felt slightly at fault at. His father blaming it all on him didn't help either.   
  
“That’s for me to know.” Holden said carefully, after debating it in his head, “Don’t bring that shit up.”   
  
Really, it was a damned if he did, damned if he didn't situation, no way out of it that wouldn't have Stradlater at least thinking about it. Which was exactly what he was trying to avoid, he hated the idea of others seeing him in that way.   
  
“Alright, alright,” Stradlater affirmed, in such a gentle and understanding tone, then changed the topic, after a minute of pensive silence, “Y’know, if it weren't for you writin’ my English compositions, I would’ve failed the class, right?”   
  
“I know.”   
  
“Wow, alright...anyway, that one you tore up? That one about your brother’s mitt or whatever? I figured it out, rewrote it an’ handed it in. Man, the teacher loved it, I swear she’s still got a copy of it, she totally thought I wrote it.”   
  
Now that got a small laugh from Holden. Stradlater? Impressing an English teacher? He’d read Stradlater’s stuff, and while it was alright, he knew how to form a story, it was...amatuer, at best. Real amatuer stuff. Stiff, not flowing at all. God knows how many compositions and editing he did for that guy within the year. Not like he was much better himself, really.   
  
“Oh that’s bullshit, sayin’ that just to make me feel better? Real Smooth, Stradlater.”   
  
“No, no kidding, guess what she did? Guess?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“She offered me to write a composition for the school paper.”   
  
Now that grabbed Holden by the balls if something ever did. _“Bullshit.”_   
  
“I’m not!”   
  
“Yes, yes you are, you ol’ sonovabitch!”   
  
“No, I ain’t a liar! I don’t think I have to say they figured me out quick, _real_ quick...they’re tough critics.”   
  
Christ, Holden knew. Always the darling of English class, ‘gifted, just like your brother’ all his teachers had told him. Funny that, he flunked every other phony subject apart from that one class, but that’s only because it was easiest. At that information, Holden leaned back, ticking the information over in his head with his fingers to his lips.   
  
“Chrissakes...Boy, I dunno, I haven’t written in years.” Holden admitted, taking a few good swigs of his drink.   
  
“Man, if anyone were to be a writer, it would’ve been you, you were good.”   
  
As honest as Stradlater sounded, he didn't buy it. Or rather, he didn't _want_ to.   
  
“Nah, only did it for English, you know what happens to writers? Always the ones to get exploited for it, jus’ look at my brother, he’s prostituting himself in Hollywood.”   
  
“Pff, is that really how you see it?” Stradlater challenged, and Holden caught that playful footsie under the table, “He’s doing well, I saw his last movie, that noir? Actors were shit, but the story was strong.”   
  
Really, as much as Holden took himself out to see his brother’s movies, it still pained him that his brother’s obvious talent was being exploited for cheap reels. D.B offered him to come to Hollywood a few times, he’d even pay for the travel expense, but he simply couldn't. Guess in the end everyone’s just trying to pay the bills, huh? How depressing.   
  


He found himself nodded to Stradlater’s comment, “Yeah, yeah I guess so, I guess so.”  
  
“Yeah.” Stradlater agreed, and they melted back into silence, “Y’know, I never hated you, no shit you got annoyin’ sometimes, but I liked your company...really, of all the roomates I’ve had, you were my favourite. I--I missed seein’ you around, an’ I’m sorry you left on shit terms.”   
  
Now, Stradlater’s foot rested on top of his own, not that it bothered him in the slightest. God, he couldn't deny it, his head was all over the place. It’s strange, how you have a single puppy crush on someone years ago, not see them for a decade, but as soon as you do you’re reminded of why you fell in love with them in the first place. Boy, it killed him.   
  
“Hey, do you remember James? James Castle?” Holden quipped out of nowhere, but anytime someone mentioned school, his mind always seemed to go back to James.   
  
Stradlater shook his head, “I’ve never heard that name before, not in my entire life.”   
  
Oh, yeah, Stradlater was from Pencey, this was at Elkton. But anyway, it certainly was a story.   
  
“Nevermind...he was this--he was this kid, I hardly knew him, but he borrowed my turtleneck, my black one, an-an’ you know what he did in it?”   
  
Stradlater seemed a little confused at this, but boy, he’d get a real kick out of this story. “No, no I don’t. Holden, I don’t even know th’ guy, are you alright there? Really?”   
  
Alright, his ass. He was the one who brought up school.   
  
“So James, he insulted this bastard, an’ this bastard an’ his friends took him up to their room an--fuck, I _still_ can’t say what they did to him, but he was wearing my turtleneck the whole time, and he flung himself out the window. Just like that.”   
  
Now _that_ got Stradlater’s attention. 

  
_“Holden,_ I, fuckin’ hell, is he still alive? Or-”   
  
“No, I saw it, I saw it...there was no comin’ back from that, couple of kids found some of his teeth in th’ gardens a week later.”   
  
Boy, Stradlater looked absolutely shocked, god, he might as well have seen a ghost, with his eyes wide like that and mouth agape.   
  
“Fuckin’ hell, _fuckin’ hell,”_ Stradlater said, completely and utterly bewildered, his hand clasped over his mouth and shaking his head, “Holden, _why_ are you telling me this? Was he, I dunno, what was he to ya?”   
  
Really, Holden himself didn't quite know. That story has just been burning a hole in his pocket for god knows how long.   
  
“I dunno, I dunno.” Holden answered, “All I knew of him was that he borrowed my turtleneck, had the balls to not take back something he said, even after they--anyway, I didn’t know him, but I liked him. He seemed alright, pretty decent actually, better than all the other phonies there.”   
  
Stradlater looked sympathetic, reaching out and taking Holden’s hand in his own, a small gesture, but a comforting one nevertheless.   
  
“It...wasn’t all bad, was it?” Holden quietly asked, “School, I mean.”   
  
Stradlater shook his head, “No, but I think we’ve both had some...some very different experiences there.”   
  
He had a point. James’s suicide was just the tip of the iceberg...God, why was he sharing all of this now of all times? He was being too much of himself, socially awkward, always talking about the wrong things at the wrong times.   
  
“Sorry man, I shouldn’t’ve brought that up.” Holden apologised, with an anxious smile, and Stradlater only shook his head, “Bit dark, huh?”   
  
“Sounds like you’ve been holdin’ onto it for too long,” Stradlater observed, “Don’t shoot yourself over it.”   
  
Ha, shoot himself indeed. If it weren't for Allison, he would’ve tried again, but next time around he’d jump off a rooftop, pretend he was flying like a duck for a solid two seconds before sweet darkness. James had the right idea there. No coming back from it. Not like the first time around. Time to change the subject.   
  
“So...what did you do after you left Pencey?” Holden asked, eager to leave the subject behind. Though Stradlater looked a little weary, he complied all the same.   
  
“University, got my law degree, fucked off with some of my old man’s dollars to become a banker, rest is history.” Stradlater answered with a small laugh, “I mean, it’s not the best job, but it’s a stable one, that’s all what matters...sometimes I think it would be nice to work in an ice-cream shop for once though, that would be fun. Wanted to do that as a kid.”   
  
Now it was Holden’s turn to laugh, “Boy, it aint all easy, that’s for sure.” and at that, he held Stradlater’s hand a little tighter, “Y’know, what I said before? About it was _how_ you did it? When you kissed me.”   
  
Well, Stradlater was caught off guard by that again, and Holden knew it was typical of him to change the subject as he saw fit, “Yeah? Why?”   
  
Christ, he was gonna do it, he was gonna bloody do it, and from that look in Stradlater’s eye he knew it too. Finally. He gave Stradlater’s hand a tug, pulling him back as he himself leaned forwards over the table to meet him in the middle with a chaste and innocent kiss. Holden held it for a moment, keeping it simple, before pulling away an inch, breathing in each other’s space. He hoped he didn't fuck it up this time. That question was all but answered as this time Stradlater was the one to close the gap between them, in a kiss just as sweet.   
  
It was much better this time around.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note, this is all smut.

As much as he knew that it would come to this, he still couldn't help but feel nervous. He couldn't. It always happened, no matter who it was with. Boy, he was by far the horniest person he’d ever known but when it came to actually doing the deed, half the time he ended up freaking and stopping. God ten years ago this was nothing more than some forbidden fantasy, locked to last night wanks in the bathroom and classroom daydreaming, and it was strangely fulfilling to finally be in Stradlater’s arms, in his bedroom. Whatever Stradlater liked, he had no idea, but so far this was nice, his hands on his broad shoulders, while Stradlater groped his rear, and their lips locked together in whiskey kisses. This felt far better than any such fantasy, and Holden gasped a little feeling those large hands wander up his shirt.  
  
“Y’know, you didn't look bad yourself back then,” Stradlater whispered, “Mind if I?”   
  
As those hands started to lift up his shirt, God, Holden hated himself for what he did next. A pinprick of panic flared up like a match, and before he could even get a word in, he’d pushed Stradlater away. Fuck, the guy looked shocked. At once Stradlater took a step back, his hands held up where Holden could see them. But chrissakes, this wasn't on Stradlater, not at all! This was on him, and him only.   
  
“Oh, th-that’s alright, you can keep it on if you like, doesn't bother me,” Stradlater assured.   
  
What a way to make a man feel guilty, huh?   
  
“No, no I’d _like_ to take it off, no kidding, I just--” Holden shook his head, not even able to find the right words to really describe it. Hell, it’s been ages since he even wore short sleeves around someone apart from his close family, for it just wasn't worth the phony sympathetic looks and ‘well wishers’. If they really wanted to wish him well, they’d mind their own fucking business, that’s what, instead of depressing him like they did.   
  
Stradlater instead snorted, and gave him a cheeky smile.   
  
“Look, if it’ll make you feel any better--”   
  
At once, Holden felt his breath hitch in his throat and eyes widen as Stradlater took a couple of steps back, leaned on his heel and tugged his shirt up over his head, making a rather graceful show of it too as he flicked it off onto the floor with his wrist. If graceful was a baby deer trying to walk, that is. But Christ, he still looked gorgeous. Sure, those days of teenage leanness were behind him, but he was certainly still strong under that layer of puppy fat, that much was clear. Fuck, just the sight got him a little flustered, letting his eyes wander from those coils of hair on his chest to that dark trail to his belly button to-- _ahem._ _  
_ _  
_ “See? Can’t be worse than I am, no worries here.” Stradlater joked, sidling back up to Holden again and pressing himself against him, kissing him playfully on the nose and letting his hands wander around his back. Fuck, just feeling the guy pressed onto him was killing him, and boy he felt giddy feeling a thigh crook over his own. Just _why_ was he like this? It hadn’t been like that with anyone else. Maybe it was just that teenager in his head going apeshit over his fantasy coming true.   
  
This time when Stradlater hooked his fingers through the spaces between his buttons, Holden let him, keeping his hands on Stradlater’s hips and hoping that his nerves didn't show through, as he picked them apart one by one by one. Once that fabric parted, Holden hitched a breath as Stradlater inhaled deeply and his hands smoothed up over his belly and chest to settle on his shoulders, and with his exhale, running his hands down his arms, and that shirt loosely dropped with it.   
  
It wasn't like Stradlater hadn't seen it all before, but now was _different,_ not just because he wasn't that skinny little weed of a teenager anymore, not because he now had stretchmarks on his hips and a small tummy pooch. And boy, he felt himself choking up a little as Stradlater lifted his arm up curiously, and stripped as bare as he was, there was no hiding those damned suicide scars. He could only hold his breath as Stradlater wordlessly inspected his arm, his brow softening a little as he did so, before he did something that Holden would’ve _never_ expected: he placed a sweet kiss to where the longest and deepest scar started on the heel of his palm, and trailed a line of chaste kisses down to where it ended at the crook of his elbow, then held his hand and pulled Holden in to finish it on his lips, and goddamn it tightened his chest, for this kiss had just that much more _feeling_ to it. But Christ, he kissed back with as much passion as Stradlater kissed him, and as he broke apart for a quick breath those kisses moved everywhere but his lips; over his nose, over his cheeks and on his chin, he kissed everywhere while Holden tried to regain himself in short breaths, not even daring to look. Holden squeezed his hand back, then started to return those kisses.   
  
_“Thank you,”_ Holden choked out, pressing his forehead against ol’ Stradlater’s.   
  
“No, thank _you_ for trusting me enough.” Stradlater affirmed, then said in a cheeky murmur, “You’re still that same ol’ sonuvabitch.”   
  
_chrissakes,_ count on Stradlater to do something as phony as making him laugh. It worked though, it _hella_ worked. As much as he knew that they should be quiet, boy, his obnoxious laugh rang like a bell, even more so as he felt a hand snake around his lower back and draw him in close to pepper little pecks on his neck. That didn't help, and no he wasn't ticklish, damn well wasn't, but those kisses _tickled. Fuck._ _  
_ _  
_ “Thought you asked _me_ to be quiet? Hm?” Stradlater mused, and Holden let the guy shut him up with a kiss to the lips, that of course he smiled against and chuckled into, damn well giddy from it all.   
  
He was nothing short of relieved that Stradlater didn't question nor shun him for those scars.   
  
“Yeah, yeah, I did,” Holden acknowledged as he ran his hands down Stradlater’s sides, an idea of how to thank him for not overreacting forming in his head.   
  
Dipping down to his knees with a grunt, his face just inches away from his crotch, Holden looked up at him for permission Stradlater eagerly gave, rubbing his fingers under Holden’s chin playfully.   
  
“Pull that puppy shit again an’ I’ll bite ya.” Holden warned, but the act did put a smile on his face while he fidgeted with that zipper, trying not to let his hands shake too much.   
  
Stradlater wasn't even hard yet, but really in his books that was a bit of a blessing. Really, his dick looked sort of cute in a weird way, how short it was while flaccid, but that just made it far easier to tug it out. Before he did anything however, from experience it was always better wet, and Holden soaked his fingers in his mouth for a brief moment, making sure to get them all wet, before he wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft. Thumbing his frenulum just to get that head to peep out of its foreskin, Holden flicked it with his tongue a few times, swirling his tongue around his head as he jerked with his fingers before taking his head in entirely. Boy, it certainly felt good to feel ol’ Strad shiver beneath him, couldn't lie, it only fuelled his pride. Didn’t take too long before he could feel it growing on his tongue and under his fingers, and with that he could finally wrap his hand around his shaft, adding flicks of his wrist while he hollowed his cheeks around it, and Stradlater gently rolling his hips into his mouth did the rest of the work for him. How polite. However, upon feeling Stradlater’s hands thread through his hair, Holden suddenly recoiled back onto his hands, coughing and almost choking on his own spit as he did so. chrissakes, it wasn't like Stradlater even _did_ anything, it’s just--his stupid head sometimes did these things, and not like he didn't know why, of course he knew, but it still made him flinch anyway.   
  
_“Shit,_ Jesus Christ!” Stradlater fretted, “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t kn--”   
  
“chrissakes, _please,_ k--keep your voice down!” Holden pleaded between sputtering coughs, before regaining his posture, before clearing his throat and continuing in a much gentler voice, “No, no it’s alright, that’s not on you...no hands next time?”   
  
Looking back up, Stradlater nodded.   
  
“Y’know you don’t _have_ to do this if you don’t want to, right?” Stradlater reminded as Holden got back in front of him, “I’ll admit, I’m not th’ keenest on giving either.”   
  
“Nah, I want to, trust me.” Holden assured him, because by God he wanted to, and this time he took the liberty to reach around and give Stradlater’s ass a good squeeze with both hands, pleased to feel it was just as firm as it looked.   
  
This time he forgoed using his hands at all, for Stradlater was stiff enough to work with just the way he was. Playfully, Holden took to peppering his shaft with little kisses before taking it back into his mouth again, gripping Stradlater a little harder as he all but fucked him with his mouth. He cringed a little and felt his eyes grow watery as the tip of his cock hit the back of his throat, but on God, what’s a little tears to this? Hearing Stradlater’s little moans and gasps, all but tearing them from him, was all the encouragement he needed to go on. Drawing his lips off with a wet pop, Holden gasped, with but a string of saliva and precum linking them together, and it amused him to see Stradlater still weakly thrusting a little.   
  
“Gimme a minute, jus’ a minute.” Holden said. Christ, his vision was a little blurry, and he wiped his eyes with his thumb. Worth it though, _goddamn,_ for he’s secretly wanted to do this for quite the long time, but no simple fantasy could even compare to the real thing.   
  
“Please, take all the time y’need.” Stradlater assured, “You’re...not bad, actually.”   
  
“Not bad? Look, I deepthroated you to tears, an’ you say _not bad?”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist...Decent, pretty decent.”   
  
_“Decent!?”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Fine!...You’re good, better than I thought, take it as a compliment.”   
  
Holden snorted and shook his head, “chrissakes, you sonuvabitch.”   
  
If he didn't like the guy so much, _boy,_ he’d teach him a lesson or two, kick him to the curb as he was and make him do the walk of shame back home. But nah, if this was an invitation to _really_ show him how he does it, then he’s gonna take it and run with it. Spitting on his hand, he cupped Stradlater’s balls, just lightly kneading them between his fingers and palm, which certainly got a delightful little gasp from him, pity he couldn't look up at his face while sucking him off again, feathering his tongue along his shaft. So taken away with it he was, he didn't even realise Stradlater was throwing words at him until a hand on his shoulder shoved him off rather roughly.   
  
“chrissakes, _Holden,_ did you hear me?” Stradlater hissed down at him, “Fuckin’ hell, gonna make me finish before we’ve even started.”   
  
Of all the reasons to be interrupted during a blowjob of all things, that was by far a most reasonable request. Boy he knew he was a mess, a stream of spit on his chin, mouth slightly salty and his eyes watery, but it’s worth it all. Absolutely. No kidding. Staring up at Stradlater, he was glad that the guy was generous, kneeling down on the floor with a grunt at eye level, and Holden leaned into his touch as Stradlater wiped his chin clean with his thumb, a small smile tugging at his lips as he did so as the bastard watched him closely.   
  
“Y’know, I still think on a scale of handsome to cute, you’re at the cute end of it.” Stradlater mused, and Holden cringed at the comment, because boy he was _not_ cute! His small groan of indignation didn't help, for the bastard only gave his cheek a couple of quick pats. “C’mon, you better not be one of those guys who changes their sheets once every six months.”   
  
Okay, when he changed his sheets was none of Stradlater’s business. It’s been three months, thank you very much, absolute _prince_ of a guy Stradlater was.   
  
But still the sight of Stradlater wriggling out of his trousers, this time flicking them off with his foot in that playful sort of way and getting comfortable in his bed...it aroused him a lot more than it should’ve. It really killed him, it did. He couldn't help but hesitate as Stradlater patted the empty space next to him, and boy the bastard sure did notice.   
  
“Never would’ve pinned ya for being a shy guy either.” Stradlater said smugly. Him and his stupid smile. He wasn't shy, not at all, there’s a difference between hesitance and shyness!   
  
To make his point, Holden picked at his trousers, and when he stood out of them he opted for settling himself right on Stradlater’s hips, straddling them and gasping a little at feeling his dick hit him right between the cheeks. It was even easier to notice it’s sharp left curve like this too.   
  
“What was that about being shy?” Holden mused back.   
  
Stradlater only wrinkled his nose up at him, “Yeah, yeah, very funny.”   
  
Oh Stradlater got back at him with that mighty slap on his rear, that had Holden yelp just a bit too loudly.   
  
_”chrissakes,_ we’re supposed to be quiet!” Holden shushed back, “I blame you.”   
  
“You never told me you were loud in bed, so that’s on you.”   
  
“What!? No, no I didn’t mean th--!”   
  
“Blah, blah, no point takin’ that back!” Stradlater laughed back, “But pity, you sound cute too.”   
  
“Oh c’mon, Ward, if you call me cute _one more time_ that’s it, you’re out. No kidding, I’ve done it before, I swear.”   
  
“Hmm, what about _pretty_ then, huh? Pretty boy?”   
  
“...Yeah, alright, that’ll do.” Holden sighed in defeat, “Not as bad as cute.” he grumbled under his breath as an afterthought. But really, the flattery got to him, as much as he hated to admit it. And when Stradlater softly laughed, he couldn't help but mirror it in his own way, in a soft chuckle that got him feeling giddy.   
  
Holden felt the same hand snake back around, this time running over his thigh and to his groin. At a small nod of permission, Stradlater stroked his half hard length experimentally, taking it dry in his hand and giving it a couple of weak pumps, just getting a feel for it.   
  
“You’re bigger than I am.” Stradlater sadly sighed, looking quite downcast at it really. One more thing to lord over him then! Really, that info of course only fuelled his competitive streak.   
  
“Why thank you, kind _sir.”_ Holden sarcastically retorted, gently bucking into him a couple of times, “You want a medal for noticing?”   
  
Already however, just feeling Stradlater’s wet cock against him, he knew he’d need a lot more than just plain old spit to take it. With a disgruntled sigh, Holden leaned over, and relishing in that their chests pressed together, he reached for the bedside drawer, fumbling around in it for a while before finding his small but trusty bottle of olive oil. Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it. Really. But it certainly got to Stradlater, who snorted at it.   
  
“Wow, olive oil, I see you’re a man of the refined class, Mr. Caulfield.” Stradlater mused as Holden moved to his thighs.   
  
“It’s better than crisco, I swear.” He defended, letting himself flush a little, but regardless he found himself pouring a generous amount right on Stradlater’s shaft, letting it drip down before spreading it with his finger, which he then used to reach around behind him, just for extra measures. Nothing worse than going in dry, after all.   
  
Straddling the bastard’s hips again, Holden hovered over him, guiding Stradlater’s cock, before sitting back on it a little, just to the ridge of his bellend. Christ, this was something he’d have to get used to for a little bit.   
  
“Can we go slow? I’m ju--”   
  
“It’s fine, take your time, take your time.” Stradlater soothed, his voice taking on a more gentler note and running his hands over Holden’s thighs, giving them a squeeze, and his small but reassuring smile made Holden melt.   
  
Slowly, and carefully, Holden let himself relax back onto Stradlater’s length, getting halfway before he had to stifle a whine between his hand out of both pleasure and the slight burn in his thighs from keeping himself suspended. But despite the burn in his thighs, boy, Stradlater filled him good, that strong curve only adding to the sensation. Finally, _finally,_ after what felt like five minutes of both pleasure and pain, he let himself sit down on it fully with a gasp...one that was probably a bit too loud in hindsight, and he mentally cursed himself for it. But Stradlater, that wise wise bastard, he was right, he was a little loud in bed. Not great when there’s a two year old sleeping away on the other side of the hallway. chrissakes, what was he doing thinking of her now? This was about _him_ for once, hell he hadn't had something like this in over a year, finally he could take some time for himself and he was _damn well_ going to enjoy it.   
  
When he wriggled his hips, it was enough to drag a breathy moan from Stradlater, who just being in him looked to be blissed out, his head tilted back on the pillows, lips slightly parted and eyes closed. Yes, this was a rather nice sight, the guy certainly could be a bit of a prince...but Christ, he looked as good as one too. A real Prince Charming. This time, he braced his hands on Stradlater’s middle, and Holden started to _roll_ his hips, nice and slow, rocking himself forwards as he drew himself up his shaft, and pushing himself back as he sank back down. Sure, it wasn't the fastest, or rather the best, because curse his knees...but it certainly hit him in all the right spots, and from how Stradlater weakly but desperately bucked up into him, whimpering a little, he must’ve been liking it too.   
  
Upon seeing that Stradlater was just going to jerk him dry, Holden took a pause to take Stradlater’s hand, and without even asking he put his middle three digits in his mouth, licking his tongue between them and making sure to get them wet, and boy, it was only when he glanced down at Stradlater did he realise just how lewd of an act it was. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, and he was afraid he’d made Stradlater squeamish, but that went out the window with his light chuckle.   
  
“Wow, grown a pair too, I see.” Stradlater mused, and god he was tempted to smack him with his own spit soaked hand at that.   
  
“No, I just _hate_ being jerked dry...I take it you’re a dry jerker?”   
  
“I mean, you get used to it.”   
  
“Jesus Christ.” Holden said, completely bewildered that someone would do such a thing, but Stradlater complied, now pumping him with a wet hand. Much better, _much_ better.   
  
Now that _that_ little problem was rectified, it was far easier to get into riding this phony, going back to rolling his hips along his length, meeting him to the hilt. Boy, he was filling, no doubt about that, and despite it being a little difficult to ride, he quickly found that rocking back and forth in it worked just as well. Leaning back on his hands, and crooking his knees up, yes, this was _far_ better. The little curse under Stradlater’s breath was all the encouragement he needed. Rocking back and forth on him, Holden slowly found it even more difficult to contain himself, partly out of exhaustion (really, it’s more tiring than it looks taking control) and simply because that pleasure was almost too much; Stradlater’s dick hitting him in all the right places, the perfect length and girth to do so, as well as being skillfully pumped on top of that was pure _heaven._ Could he really be blamed for whimpering, little keens and squeals bubbling up in his throat?   
  
“H-Holden? You’re good, no offense, but how fast can ya go?” Stradlater groaned beneath him.   
  
“I--this’s my best.” Holden honestly replied.   
  
“...Mind if I take over? J-just for a-- _oh fuck--_ a while?”   
  
Holden simply couldn't reply, but he hoped his nod said it all. At once, he felt Stradlater grip his thighs and drag him flat on his back, pulling himself out slowly as he swiftly knelt between his legs. Usually Holden wasn't the most keen on these positions for...reasons, but this wasn't a stranger, he’s known Stradlater for a decade...no, he trusted that Stradlater, sexy bastard as he was, wouldn't hurt him like this. And Christ, that smile of Stradlater’s made him weak. But at the same time, he missed feeling full, and despite his head and shoulders off the edge of the bed in this position, he’d like to see where Stradlater went with this.   
  
“Uh, one thing, if I ask you to stop, will you?” Holden just _had_ to clarify, and boy, his gut damn well lurched as soon as the question left his lips, pairing nicely with his heart already racing like a car on a track. Stradlater looked a little confused by the question, but didn't question it.   
  
“Of course, of course, I wouldn't hurt you.” Stradlater assured, and he caressed Holden’s hip gently, “Listen, I promise, you’re safe with me. Tell me to stop an’ I will.”   
  
Holden felt just a little more relieved at that, and tilted his hips up for Stradlater, letting the guy grip his thigh with one hand and with the other, he guided his dick in, slowly, just like Holden had asked for earlier. Slowly, he sank in and drew out, using Holden’s thighs for leverage. Christ, Stradlater knew how to use what he had, really rolling his hips up to get him right there. Holden spat on his own hand, and reaching down to pump himself like Stradlater did before, he let a pleased sigh escape him, letting himself relax and lean back, and boy it felt funny to open his eyes and see the world upside down, bouncing before his eyes as Stradlater moved in him. He noticed that he stupidly forgot to pull the blinds down, but really, he let himself be transfixed by those man made stars twinkling in the windows of the buildings outside, and goddamn, he found himself smiling as Stradlater sped up, that lewd clap of skin and Stradlater’s grunts and pants, small curses under his breath. How phony, barely even paying attention to Stradlater and only focusing on his own pleasure and what’s outside the window. But Christ, he felt light in both his head and his chest, his own gasps and whimpers heavy in his lungs and...he felt _happy._   
  
Could he really be blamed for laughing? Because boy, he knew he should be quiet, but he simply couldn't contain it. Fuck, just everything that’s happening to him right now, he simply couldn't find another way to express it, and who cares if his laugh was obnoxious and loud as hell? He didn't, and he wanted to laugh until he was hiccuping on his own happy tears. God, he was so _happy._ _  
_ _  
_ Boy, just about lost himself as Stradlater pounded into him, Holden’s name heavy on his breath like some sort of prayer, the bed creaking like hell as they moved together. Fuck Holden almost didn't want to be moved, but Stradlater dragged him back from the edge all the same, pulling his scarred arm up, and chrissakes, he didn't even realise that Stradlater was kissing his arm for a solid minute, hell, he was kissing it all over for he couldn't reach his face. Might as well melt into the sheets, for as Stradlater choked and moaned softly...it was a gorgeous sight, that’s for sure. Really, the both of them couldn't speak, not at all, for they seemed to drag the words away from each other with every soft breath and longing look and touch.   
  
Hell, so caught up in it, Holden barely even realised he was on the verge of his own orgasm until it hit him out of nowhere, and before his scattered mind could even make sense of what was going on, his back arched and a strangled moan got stuck in his throat, and he felt himself shoot and drip out over his fist and onto his own stomach. Stradlater stopped for a moment just to let Holden regain himself, and Holden had to quickly thank him for being polite before of course Stradlater started again, and Holden felt nothing more than a dead weight, too drunk on a cocktail of euphoria and pleasure to reciprocate anymore.   
  
Now, it was less heated, more gentle, more loving. Holden almost warned Stradlater about the mess when he all but rested his chest on top of him, but Stradlater didn't seem to care, gently rocking into him as he cupped Holden’s face to place a sweet and tender kiss, this time, right on the lips. Holden felt Stradlater’s breath against him, felt those loving hands tuck locks of his messy auburn hair behind his ear, and felt him whimper against his cheek, only to hitch a breath and grip his shoulder as he rocked into him for the last time.   
  
It felt like forever that their heads were just too close to each other to not be kissing, and Holden took it upon himself to weakly knit his fingers through Stradlater’s crown of black curls and pile his lips onto his own.   
  
Fuck, it didn't even feel real. It _didn't,_ just how much he was feeling at once, so much that he simply couldn't tell one emotion from the other. That tightness clenched his throat again, but this time, they weren't tears of sadness, not even a little bit, not at all. As he felt himself being grounded to the earth again, his smile started to hurt. It killed him, it really did. But he could die happy.   
  
Almost as soon as Holden felt Stradlater slip out of him, he had yet another kiss to the cheek.   
  
“Mind if I use your shower?” He asked, “I won’t take long.”   
  
Stradlater sat back with a stretch, his breaths still heavy, and this time with Holden’s mess starting to flake off his tum.   
  
“Yeah, yeah go ahead, use the larger towel...Oh, an’ the knob is stiff, if you want hot water you gotta yank it real good, left side.”   
  
Stradlater nodded, and unceremoniously sprang off the bed, and Christ Holden had to appreciate his rather nice ass.   
  
“So you gonna join me or what?”   
  
He would, truly, but an unpleasant memory of getting up as soon as he was railed, only to fall over with the first step and smash his face into the wall, well it was simply too much of a warning.   
  
“Nah...give or take a minute.”   
  
Stradlater raised an eyebrow before shutting the door behind him, and a minute later the shower turned on. God, he himself could barely move, now sitting up on a shirt he didn't mind throwing away afterwards, just taking it all in. Really, he felt _happy,_ no doubt about that, even now he still felt light and giddy.   
Deciding that he was up to it, he winced as he got up, making sure to keep his steps light enough. He was greeted with flickering light and enough steam to cloud the place up, even with the window open a crack. Guess Stradlater was still one to bathe in pure lava. He always did that back at Pency, boy, he looked red as hell after a shower sometimes. Tapping the shower curtain, Stradlater was the one to tug it across and let him in.   
  
“Y’know this’s quite a small shower, right?” Stradlater joked, moving aside for Holden.   
  
“Shut it.” Holden simply returned, to a snort from the bastard, and he winced as Stradlater flicked water into his face. Holden retaliated by reaching over and tapping the showerhead against the wall instead.   
  
“Oi, you lil shit!” Stradlater jabbed back, trying to readjust the showerhead to Holden’s slightly sadistic amusement, “Almost done, one tick!”   
  
“Hey, keep your voice down, _please!”_ Holden reminded.   
  
“Nuh-uh, that’s on you, pretty boy.” Stradlater retorted, rubbing the last of the soap from his shoulders, then gave Holden a playful salute before hopping out for him. Christ, he really liked his showers _hot._ He tried not to get his hair wet, but made sure to wash his face and mouth out damn well.   
  
“Not gonna sing for us?” Stradlater mused outside, “You used to sing in there _all_ th’ time, back then.”   
  
Yeah that was true. Sang in the can too. But really it was fun to be annoying sometimes, it annoyed Ackley especially. His singing always annoyed that stiff, and boy, it was fun to get back at him sometimes whenever he was being too much. Like chewing his nails over his bed. Again. At least he didn't have to put up with it now.   
  
“Nah, keepin’ my voice down, remember?” Holden reminded, and he heard Stradlater groan, then the door shut, and he could only figure that he was on his own now. Even though Stradlater was in the room right next door, he still missed him.   
  
Of course, Stradlater took his towel, and a quick shake off on the tiles was enough to stop too much water from spilling from here to the bedroom. However, he was surprised to see Stradlater already dressed, currently adjusting his cuffs. From that brief look they shared, Holden knew he wasn't going to stay around. He picked his towel up off the floor and wrapped it around himself.   
  
“Oh, you’re...leavin’ already.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Holden didn't quite know how to feel about that. Chrissakes, he hoped the guy would at least stay around for a while, maybe cuddle up in bed for a bit, talk until they couldn't keep their eyes open...But Holden knew it wouldn’t be like that anymore, they both had their own lives, they were both busy, and it was a Sunday anyway, but Christ, he wished that Stradlater would’ve stayed. Still, he watched as Stradlater tidied himself up in front of the mirror, combing his curls with his fingers, his gaze occasionally flickering over to Holden as he did so. It was his own fault, really, he caught feelings too easily, boy he knew he did. Even if said person was someone he hadn't seen in years and only fawned on from afar. So why did he suddenly feel so empty? He bit the inside of his cheek as Stradlater pulled on that blue coat.   
  
“It was alright, was it?” Stradlater asked. Holden nodded, unable to speak right now. That seemed to please Stradlater, who gave his cheeks a couple more of those same ol’ claps. “See you ‘round, Holden. Thank you for havin’ me.”   
  
Boy, Stradlater knew how to get to him. It depressed him.   
  
“See you, you moron.”   
  
“Attaboy.”   
  
Stradlater had a lovely smile, one that crinkled his eyes, even when he wasn't smiling so hard. Holden could’ve sworn that he’d pull something dramatic like those actresses in all those phony Hollywood movies, who burst into tears and begged their lover to not leave them, beg him to stay the night, to stay a little long...But that never came. He didn’t even try. Not at all.   
  
\-----   
  
This wasn’t Holden’s first puppy crush, and nor would it be his last. While that teenager still banging around his head would put his whole life on hold for something like this, as he was in the present, he knew better. Life goes on and the sun keeps rising and setting and the world keeps spinning, and it stopped for _no one._ Just as Stradlater stormed back into his life for a week, by the next Sunday it was all but a memory, just something that happened, nothing big enough to dwell on for the next ten years.   
  
And here he was, just another day at work. It wasn't the most busy on Tuesdays, only tourists and kids with coins in their pockets skipping school really came by. But the cruisy days were always welcomed, sometimes it was a relief to not be swarmed with customers, keeping himself busy with cleaning the counters or sneaking a book under them, helping himself to a second cup of coffee, one of the good ones from the machine instead of the instant shit, when his boss went out for her lunch break. It was quite a good book he was reading as well, not the most gripping, but interesting enough to get him through the day. In fact, if it weren't for the little bell tinkling above the door, he wouldn't have looked up from it.   
  
Only he knew this customer like the back of his hand, and more.   
  
Boy, he knew his eyes widened like saucers, and for a moment he lost his breath. Ward Stradlater, looking rather dashing in his work suit, stood right in front of him for the first time in a month. Neither of them had much to say, at all. Chrissakes, was he really this useless around anyone vaguely attractive? Stradlater was the first to speak.   
  
“Just a, uh, coffee to go. Black.”   
  
Oh...Holden was a little disappointed that that was all he had to say. Scratch that, _pretty_ disappointed indeed.   
  
“Yeah, sure thing, small, regular or large?”   
  
“Regular’s fine, an’ can I have a couple of sugars in it too?”   
  
“Yeah, of course, one minute.”   
  
Even with his back turned to him as he worked the machine, he couldn't help but feel his eyes staring right through him, scrutinising him. Boy, it depressed him a little bit, knowing that Stradlater would look and not even talk. Even his regulars chatted with him while he worked the machine. But he wasn't angry, no, just...disappointed.   
  
“That’ll be a dollar-fifty, please.”   
  
Stradlater instead handed him a five dollar note, “Keep th’ change, I don’t mind, Holden.”   
  
Really, there wasn't anyone else here, noone at all, and boy he knew he’d regret it later but he simply couldn't live with himself if he didn't take this one opportunity.   
  
“Hey moron, how’s life been treatin’ you?” Holden mused, “Put you through the wringer like everyone else?”   
  
Quite dark conversation, but it got Stradlater to smile.   
  
“Yeah, you could say that, how about you?”   
  
“Hm, yeah, they’ve been better...so I take it you’re goin’ back to Wall Street lookin’ like that?”   
  
Stradlater gave him a funny look at that, “You’re not wrong, but I just--was just lookin’ for an old friend of mine, apparently he works here.”   
  
Holden smiled slyly at that. “Oh, he does now?”   
  
“Mmhm.”   
  
“Well,” Holden continued, leaning with both arms on the counter, mockingly trying to look disinterested, “You’ve missed th’ boat, but I can pass on a message?”   
  
Stradlater nodded, “Yeah...Tell a certain Mr Caulfield, that--that I liked his company, an’ frankly, I’d like to see--scratch that, tell him that Ward Stradlater came around and said that h--no, no, fuck, this isn’t workin’.”   
  
Holden snorted a little, trying not to laugh too much, “That’s alright, take your time.”   
  
It amused him to see Stradlater flush like that.   
  
“Alright, alright...Listen, tell him, I’d like to see him again, if he’s up for it, I still think he’s got my number somewhere.”   
  
“He does.”   
  
“Well then, tell him--tell him to call up sometime, will you?”   
  
Chrissakes, he couldn't believe it, he couldn’t bloody believe it. Holden couldn't stop his smile, and god, he smiled so much it hurt. Those butterflies in his stomach returned, and boy they fluttered so much he swore they’d burst right up through his ribs.   
  
“Of course, of course I will. I’m sure I’d--I’m sure _he’d_ really like to see you again.”   
  
Holden caught that little sigh of relief.   
  
“Thank you, I-I’d best be off, thank you, I mean it!”   
  
Holden didn't even reply, as Stradlater smiled at him over his shoulder, until he almost crashed right into the door, and Holden kept their eyes locked as Stradlater disappeared into that throng of busy phonies.   
  
What a phony, a fascinating, strange, yet utterly gorgeous phony. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got this far, I congratulate you, thank you so much for getting here :) If you want to chat and scream about old books, I'm still up and kicking on tumblr @holdencommodorecumrag


End file.
